I'm Only Human
by Ready Or Notxx
Summary: I'm only human. When I dance in the dark, I have flaws, just like you. I fall in love, just like you. I suffer, just like you. I die, just like you. Adam/Evan. Angst. Long poem. T for language.


Hi, my people. :) It's sure been a while, hasn't it. Well guess what? It's time for depressing poetry. I've been thinking about a plot like this for a while, and what better way to express it than through poetry? :) Please enjoy. Also... Don't hate me cuz I did this to Adam. Please. XD Also, this is for someone very special to me. You may know her as JigsawsDead, but she's my love, Erin. She's everything to me. I love you baby, and I hope this doesn't piss you off. XD

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

**I'm Only Human**

As far as I'm concerned,

my life is over.

He's gone now.

She did this to us. She could

never let me be me. She could

never stand the idea of me

breaking away, of being

my own person, of being

able to escape any control

over me.

I'm only human. I can't

control these stupid feelings that

wash over me like a giant

gray wave, flooding into my open mouth,

racing to my lungs, consuming me,

destroying some parts of me,

constructing others.

I've never wanted to be like this.

They say being gay is in your genes. I

don't know if I believe that.

Or maybe I do.

Dad is gay.

Maybe I got inherited that from him. Maybe

my sister carries the gene too, but

it's recessive. Whatever. I don't really

understand science anyway,

and I certainly don't plan on

getting any degree in it now.

Dad left mom for another man. And simply

because I wasn't allowed to see dad anymore,

oh, Ma made sure I would never disgrace God's name with

talk of being a fag, because I wasn't allowed to see the man

who had helped give life to me, I never knew his male partner's name.

And because I never saw Dad again after that,

I don't know if they're still together or not.

Mom says God is the most important

thing. We had to pray before every meal. God

forbid I take one tiny sip of my water. The ice cubes

sat in the glass, taunting me. And each night,

as Ma said the prayer, my sister Gracie would

glance over at me, sarcastic thoughts slithering

through her eyes like the most venomous sort

of vipers.

Gracie's light blonde hair, tied back in that ponytail every

day, and still today. Her brown eyes. Yeah,

we both have

brown eyes

but mine are darker. Mine could be black.

I'd like to think they're black...

As far as I'm concerned,

Gracie is one of the only two people of

any importance to me left in my life as I sit

here, staring at the people on the ground

below.

As far as I'm concerned,

she has helped me so many times. Taken the

blame so many times.

Taken the beatings

so

many

times.

It wasn't until I was ten, a year after Dad

had gone and left us,

that I'd felt the need to explain something

special and new

to my unsuspecting

mother.

I want to be like Daddy, Mama.

_What do you mean?_

I don't like girls.

_What?_

I like boys.

I like boys.

I like boys.

I like boys.

I like boys.

Her fist opened,

open because knuckles leave

bruises

and bruises

let people know

what's going on

behind closed doors.

I flew out of my chair

and I hit the floor

and all I could hear

was her screaming and threatening

and

a phone call to my father.

My father. Who had vanished.

He didn't seem real anymore.

I don't know what other

things I don't know

about have slipped underneath my

nose since that day without my

knowledge.

I'm only human, and this

is how I felt. I wasn't fucking attracted to

boobs. There was nothing to

be attracted to. Just a

difference in gender.

Different parts.

Pregnancies.

The world's already overpopulated.

You'd think more gay men in the world

would just mean maybe

not using up all our fucking

resources in the future.

Maybe.

According to God,

men cannot lay with each other because

sex is not really for pleasure anyway. It's for making

the babies.

According to God,

I was supposed to be Catholic like Mom and Gracie. I

was supposed to be

apart of a group of people that didn't

allow their women to take birth control because

many babies in the house are a good thing.

And you don't have a fucking choice, because you're shunned

if you do get an abortion or birth control.

I think being apart of that Catholic church

was Ma's first mistake

because she couldn't take a nice little pill

to stop me

from ever becoming the worst disgrace

in her nice little warm church on a cozy

green hill.

And I think God, if He's real like they all say,

if he's really watching over me,

if all the rules in the great book really count,

I've failed my life completely.

Let's see here.

I like when men hump me.

Girls are not attractive to me.

I have more tattoos that I care to count.

I cuss. Fuck. Bitch. Bitch. Hell. Damn. Shit. Fuck.

As far as I'm concerned,

I'm a free **bitch.**

Ma can go to **hell.**

**Fuck **my life.

And I'm sure I've **fucked **up in more than those

ways too. **Damned** myself.

I'm **shit **out of luck.

I'm only human, and as they say,

everyone finds love many times throughout their life.

But I don't think so.

The only person who ever loved me

came into my life at twenty-seven,

the age that I am now,

and since my life is pretty much over now,

since I think every second after getting here

that what I'd

like more than

anything to do is to press a gun barrel

into my cheek and pull the trigger,

I think that you only find good love once.

I don't think Gracie counts, because even though

she's saved me from Ma's beatings on

more than a few occasions,

she's still part of the church,

and

she still thinks

what

I do

is wrong.

If she loved me,

she would support me

instead of speaking quietly to me,

instead of averting my eyes when Mommy Dearest

hits her instead of me.

As far as I'm concerned,

Gracie Bennington thinks little of me.

And while she is one of the people

who's actually important to me,

that doesn't mean much,

since she means very little to me.

Mom is a zero.

Gracie's maybe a one or two.

But Adam...

Adam was different.

When I met Adam, everything else

fucking stopped. We met at a concert, you know,

he was drunk, I was drunk as the music and screaming

fans whirled and blurred around us.

Nobody else existed but us. Nobody else mattered

but us.

Drunk kisses,

even though then we were total strangers,

meant a lot to me,

after trying to so hard to impress a guy

and not having him think I was a fucking **fag.**

All I had to do was

kiss this scrawny,

chain-smoking,

horrible-dancing,

angry little guy.

_You're going to call me?_

Depends. You don't want to talk about football, do you?

_Fuck no. Do I look like I like sports?_

Didn't think so. Me neither.

_Somewhere my dad just had a heart attack because we said that._

Your poor dad.

_I meant, call me if you just want to talk, you idiot._

Okay. When?

_I don't know. If I answer, it's a good time. If I don't, it's not._

We'd dated for three years. I must

confess that I instantly loved him more than anything

and that he became my everything

and for once

I felt like I was something.

Something good.

Something bad.

Something happy.

Something afraid.

Something speechless.

Something panicked.

Something poisoned.

Something cured.

I don't know what

that something was.

He'd fall asleep next to me after

being on bottom again,

because he knew I liked the control,

and it didn't matter what he liked right then,

because he'd just have to deal with me being the one

showing him the love.

He got me into smoking. All those stories

about cigarettes causing cancer,

shortening your life, and other things

didn't really scare me.

I guess subconsciously I knew.

I am the monster here. I like

injections,

snorting,

swallowing,

inhaling

when I was low.

Things I wouldn't

let Adam do because he meant

all to me. At least

he couldn't do that stuff around me.

You don't think of your heart rejecting the substance

or the carcinogens.

You just think of getting the fuck out.

Which is funny, because you can do that

so much easier

to yourself by jumping down and snapping

in half along with the concrete.

I loved Adam.

I loved Adam.

I love Adam.

I loved Adam.

I love Adam.

I loved Adam.

Gracie had called me one day, just to touch

base. I told her.

Why did I tell her about the slightly

younger man

sitting in my lap,

stroking my palm,

running his pink lips

along the back of my hand?

She told Mom.

I don't know if she tattled.

I don't know.

I just don't know.

I don't know if it was by accident or not.

I'm only human, and

I don't possess all the knowledge.

On a scale of one to ten,

what I know is a four.

Maybe.

It could be a three.

Mom had warned my previous boyfriends

that they better not touch me

because apparently I did mean something.

I was part of her reputation.

The church didn't know I was a flaming

homosexual.

So if they found out,

Ma might be kicked out or whatever.

As far as I'm concerned,

she can go to **hell** in the grand scheme of things.

She can scream as her flesh disenegrates

in the searing fires shooting

from the demons possessing me,

the demons swimming around inside of my body

and controlling my limbs, my mind,

my heart,

what I want.

Adam went to work a few mornings later.

He put his camera strap over his shoulder,

pressed his lips to my neck.

I was still lying in bed,

half-awake,

half in the dark.

When will you be home?

_Don't know yet. The wedding's gonna be all day._

Shit. That must suck, you taking photos of sappy crap like that.

_Don't know if I mind those as much anymore..._

Huh?

_Evan, just go back to sleep. You look like we've been fucking all night again._

Shut up.

_You sound like a twelve-year-old, man._

Augh. Shut up.

_I'm kidding. I'll try to break free as soon as possible._

Okay. We'll see a movie when you get home.

_What movie?_

A cheesy romance movie. What do you think? A horror movie.

_Let's hope the acting's not too terrible. Now I really have to go. Love you, man._

I know you do. Get a move on. I love you too, baby.

That was

will always be

always has been

always had to be

will be

should've been

is

was

dies as

the last time I ever saw him.

As far as I'm concerned,

**fuck** my life.

He didn't come home that night. I had

to call his cell, over and over, because maybe

he had stopped for a beer. Maybe his cell

was in a dead zone. Whatever.

No.

I was wrong.

After a while, someone did answer the

phone, but it

wasn't Adam.

_Hello?_

Who's this?

_This is Adam's brother, Matt._

Is Adam there?

(I got bothered when there was this long pause.)

Hello?

_Is this Adam's boyfriend, Evan?_

Yeah. Is Adam there?

_Adam's dead._

(I dropped the phone, but I could still hear his voice.)

_On the way to his wedding job..._

_A woman with long, platinum blonde, curly hair_

_shot him._

I don't think I've described my Ma,

but she is a platinum blonde

who once had dark brown hair

who has brown eyes.

I get my black and brown hair

from that **bitch.**

A part of me is like her.

Break my neck, snap it

in half so my

spine sticks out of my back

and my eyes are dead

and glazed over.

Let me lose myself in

poison, in water, in darkness,

in nothingness.

My Adam is dead. Because he

loved me.

My Adam is dead. Because

he wanted to be with me.

My Adam is dead. Because

I like boys.

My Adam is dead. Because

I'm a disgrace to Mommy.

I'm sorry, Mommy, that I was such

a tragedy when I barged into you home,

a home that I was raised in, but wasn't

_my _home, it never was my fucking home because

you were there.

I'm sorry, Mommy, that I pulled the gun out from

underneath the bed that Adam and I had shared together

when he was breathing next to me, asleep, the gun that I kept

just in case of an emergency. It's a shotgun, in case

you don't know.

I loved him.

I'm crying.

Screaming it.

I loved him.

Why am I killing you?

You have to die.

You've **fucked **with my everything

for so long.

I'm sorry, Mommy, that you didn't know how this would end,

that I would sneak up on you with your bottle of Vodka

onhand, that you would never expect

the bullet in your back, the bullet that followed,

because you're such a **shitty fucking bitch, **I was never

enough for you, and if you can't be happy, I can't, and if you mess things

up for me,

if you ruin me like this,

if you hold me down under this water,

I'm gonna blow more circular, blood-stained holes into your stupid

pretty shirt.

I'm sorry, Mommy, but then I'm going to go do the same to Gracie

because she told on me. She killed Adam too, and it doesn't matter if it

was a slip of the tongue,

because she played one of the biggest parts in shooting a hole through

the love of my life

just like you.

I'm sorry, Mommy, but then I'll go find Dad, and

I'll shoot him too, just because I'm gay like him, just because it

ruined me too, and not because

this is all his fault.

It's because of me.

I killed Adam.

If he wasn't with me, he

wouldn't have had to die.

And then I'll kill anyone else who

I happen to find

as a simple victim or witness. I'll blow

a hole through anyone just to burn away the skin

that I wear.

But now,

it's over because I'm back at the apartment Adam and I shared

together.

See, we're on the third story.

See, as far as I'm concerned,

all I have is dead. I'm sitting on the railing, and

the tears well up in my black eyes,

but I won't cry.

I can't cry.

When your life is over,

when you've lost it all,

when the one thing you've loved has gone away,

all you want to do is rejoin it.

I want to ask you a question.

When you lose everything,

what is easier for you to do?

To die or go on living in the world

you've single-handedly destroyed with your own actions?

Go on living in a white room

where your skull sinks into your liquified brain

and you have no use of use of your limbs?

I'm only human,

but when I lean over the edge,

feel the rushing of wind and air through my fingers,

I find I know what love is.

I don't know if there's a heaven or **hell,**

but I have a pretty good feeling

I can be with Adam again this way.

I'm only human.

When I dance in the dark,

I have flaws, just like you.

I fall in love, just like you.

I suffer, just like you.

I die, just like you.

In the grand scheme life,

in the end,

when it all comes crashing down,

I mean everything to one person

and nothing to another person

just like you.

And I know I'm reuinited when

I hit

the bottom.

And I know I'm reuinited when I see white,

when I realize he's here,

when I realize she's not,

and I can be the human me.

And I know I'm reuinited when

I hear him telling me not to cry,

that I'm okay,

that I'm going to be all right.

**XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

Dude, I worked so hard on this. XD I'm ready for your angry reviews, but before you get mad, consider things. One: I worked HARD. Two: I like angst. So do you. Three: Yeah, they both died, but they at least got to be together in death. :D Oh, I'm sad. XD _**By the way, the religious stuff in this is not intended to make anyone angry and isn't against Catholics.**_ I'm not supporting these views or calling anyone out. :)


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